Speick
by Simply one hell of an author
Summary: I wonder what would happen if Germany suddenly went all France like? There's only one way to find out... Rated m for Fluff,lime and lemon
1. Chapter 1

**(This is chapter one, the pairings may be increasingly sporadic, but don't worry GerIta fans, you'll get your (eventual) share of fluff and lemon.)**

**Speick chapter one**

**Start of something**

Germany awoke on his bedroom floor with a blinding headache. It wouldn't have been the first time. In fact he often spent the night on the floor after playing drinking games late with his brother. He and Gilbert could drink each other under the table. Hell, they could drink each other under the carpet!

However on this unforgivingly bright morning, Germany felt strange. Instead of having a conversation with his toilet about what he had to drink last night, he felt hot. Achingly hot.

He went to put on his clothes but could only get as far as to pull on his boxers and climb into his combat trousers before the heat overwhelmed him. He decided to forego a shirt, the touch of the rough cloth was too much for him to handle. Every brush on his skin was like icy fire, electric, and so damn good.

When he went to look in the mirror, he noticed that his pectorals were more toned than before but as his slightly baggy slacks revealed, he was smaller in size than the last time he looked.

He glanced up at the clock, it was 8:15; he was very nearly late for the UN meeting. Quickly, he shrugged on his leather bomber jacket and zipped it up to hide his almost womanly figure. Big mistake.

The car drive to the convention was absolute hell. He nearly crashed the automobile twice, when stopping at a green light and carrying on at a red.

When he got to the meeting many people turned their heads to stare at the dishevelled German.

The air in the large room was humid and the leather of the coat made the heat rise even higher. The blonde groaned quietly as his hand reached up to brush the ungelled hair out of his pink hued face. The action did not go unnoticed.

"Are you ar light Germany?" asked Japan worriedly.

"Ja, I'm fine." He murmured.

The whisper attracted the boards' attention away from the loudmouth American at the head of the table.

Some of the countries started to mumble to each other behind their hands.

"Germany! Japan! If you don't mind dudes, I'm tryin' to talk here!" came an indignant shout.

Suddenly the heat increased tenfold. Germany bowed his head, hair covering his face. He started to tremble.

America felt guilty.

"Dude, I sorry but you gotta take your own orders. Don't you always say to-?" The bespectacled country was cut off by a pair of lips over his. The German was kissing him.

A wet appendage ran across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He shoved the platinum blonde away and wiped his mouth. The other countries gawped in shock.

"What the hell?" Germany gazed into his eyes, the normally blue pools now molten amethyst.

He took the moment of America's weakness to push him backwards into the chair and straddle his legs, his slender form rubbing in all the right ways.

Germany ground his hips down into the other man, moaning slightly. All coherent thought had been evaporated the moment he had heard America say his name.

To the Aryan it was as if he and the American were the only people in the room, in the whole world. However, the other nation felt as if there were the population of china in the room.

America could feel their eyes on them as he tried to pry the (surprisingly handsome) German from his lap.

"Dudes! A little help? France, there's no need for you to join in! Japan buddy, put down the camera! Guys, help me!"

England put down his cup of tea and reluctantly wandered over to where Germany was currently unburdening his friend of his shirt.

"As fascinating as this is, America is right, we should stop them." He motioned for Russia and Sweden to help him. They took hold of both of Germany's arms (in Russia's case, his waist) and literally dragged him off of America's half naked body.

They held the panting blonde Adonis while he struggled wildly and America reclothed himself.

Germany whined in a way that was almost dog like; high pitched with a threatening growl behind it. He felt as if he were burning up from the inside. The leather that still clung to his limbs felt like a second skin.

England inspected the new purple orbs and contemplated the previous night…

…...Flashback…..

"Agravarum, mouscovenium, dumbledora, the explorer, oggy oggy oggy, oi oi- _oh bollocks_!" England swore as the viscous orange/brown liquid bubbled over onto his hands and he stubbed his toe on the wooden workbench.

He stuck them under his armpits and hopped around his cellar/magic room cursing.

"Why the bloody hell didn't it work?" he thought aloud. The Brit opened his magic book* and scoured the pages looking for the recipe.

"Aha! Found it." He read through the dusty page until he got to the end. 'Speick' thought England 'is what I need. Let's see, it says here that; "If Speick is not added before the incantation is spoken, the potion will be rendered useless for the intended purpose."'

He decided not to read the small print of the book; he had to find out what the hell Speick was.

He shut the volume and scurried up his ladder for a book on magical plants.

He found it right at the back of his shelf, under one of France's dild… presents. The British man set down 'magic moss and wizardly willows down onto the gold lectern and flipped to S.

"Sandalwood, no, Selik, no, Snapdragon, no- ah, Speick." He leant over the rather large compendium and started to read. "Speick. A rare member of the onion family found only in Germany."

England snapped the leather bound hardback shut with quite a bit of effort and shoved his supplies and magical artefacts into the bottomless bag that he had purchased from a somewhat beautiful English nanny._ What was her name again? Something Poppins. _

He corked what was left of his earlier attempt and put it in the carpet bag too. You never could be too careful, what with Sealand and America around.

He took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire.

"Diagon- I mean, Germany's house!" he stepped into the flames as they burned an acidic green.

Somewhere along the gut twisting journey he faintly heard a voice.

"That's the nimbus two thousand; it's the fastest racing broom in the world!" the tea drinking blonde disregarded the exited comment and focused on getting to Germany's house with all of his limbs intact.

"!

Oof"

Germany jumped up from the beige sofa as a soot covered Englishman fell out of his fireplace.

"Heilige Sheiße!" He placed a hand over his heart and positioned his beer down on the place mat on the coffee table.

"Guten tag England." He said wearily. It had been a long day and the last thing he needed was for his home to be invaded by walking eyebrows pretending to be Santa Claus.

England dusted himself off with a tissue that the German had conveniently on hand.

"Sorry about the intrusion old chap, but I've had a bit of bother with one of my spells. They tend to go more or less wrong some of the time."

As if to demonstrate, he plonked the failed potion on the table next to Germany's Budweiser.

"Kein scherz." The sarcasm was lost on the oblivious Brit as he continued to brush lumps of coal out of his facebrows.

"Oh I'm being serious my fritzy friend. Which reminds me; I don't suppose you've got any Speick on you at all?"

Germany sighed in relief. He wasn't going to be turned into a scone eating eyebrow monster after all.

"I'll see if I have some in my larder." And with that, the broad shouldered blonde strode out of the room in search of the uncommon corm.*

While England waited for his acquaintance to come back he admired the houses' décor. Everything was either cream or cornflower blue, which was appropriate, seeing as the cornflower was Germany's national floret.

Speaking of national things, a loud snarl interrupted his train of thought. England looked around for the source of the noise. He didn't have to search for very long.

Under the small table was a very big German shepherd. It was sleek and well groomed, just like Germany. But unlike Germany it seemed to have it in for him. England decided that getting torn apart wasn't on his 'things to do before I'm three thousand' list and that acquiring the all-important speick could wait another day.

He bravely chose to gentlemanly dog it out of there.

…End of flashback…

'I wonder if I upset him?' thought Britain.

But now as he peered into Germany's lilaceous eyes he couldn't help the nagging feeling that it wasn't something he had said that made his friend this way, but something he had done.

He _would_ get to the bottom of this.

*Not to be confused with France's magic box. Definitely don't open_ that._

Kein scherz- No kidding

* Corm is another word for bulb.

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and that the pairing wasn't too bad for you. Germerica is NOT the pairing I'm going for.)


	2. Chapter 2

**(Sorry, there's just gonna be this last one for the Gerland pairing.)**

**Speick chapter 2**

**You want my wand where?**

When England woke up the following morning he was in a daze. Had what had happened last UN been real…?

_They took hold of both of Germany's arms (in Russia's case, his waist) and literally dragged him off of America's half naked body. _

_They held the panting blonde Adonis while he struggled wildly and America reclothed himself._

He felt a heavy presence on his chest. Was it guilt? If so, what was it for?

As it turned out the weight on his chest was not guilt, but Germany.

He looked down and saw the lilac eyed nation already awake and staring right back at him.

"What the bloody hell…?"

He rubbed his sore ass from where he had scooted so far from the other that he had fallen out of the messy covers.

"How in the name of Shakespeare did you get into my bed!" he yelled. Germany looked hurt, in an adorable, kicked puppy kind of way. He climbed down off of the bed and onto the befuddled Brits lap. Right on top of his morning wood.

He reached out and fondled the hardness with a soft hand through union flag boxers.

(The lime starts here. Fans of GerIta or any other Ger+ pairing look away now.)

"Holy shit Germany~" moaned England "Stop~"

His voice squeaked in a girlish fashion as the other male pulled his member out of its cloth prison.

"Really Germany, you're not yourself right now." He tried to concentrate on rational thoughts instead of the hand stroking him up and down.

"I'll tell you what- ahh~, if you stop immediately~, I'll give you some bratwurst, how does that sound, good?"

The horny blonde gave him a pointed lustful glare as if to say _I'd rather have some of your bratwurst. _

And with that he bent down and languidly licked the side of his member. Britain cursed in English, Scottish, Welsh and Irish before gripping the Germans hair and moaning quietly.

When the tongue flicked across the head of his shaft the Englishman screamed and sank his teeth into his pyjama sleeve, some of his juices weeping from the slit.

His hips thrusted with a will that was not his own as Germany lapped at the precum.

Giving one final twirl of his tongue over the bulbous top he took England all the way down. For an Island his friend was pretty large. All seven inches were seated quite comfortably in his throat.

He snaked a hand up his leg and up his thigh to toy with his sac, massaging it roughly.

The scone eater doubled over with the multiple stimulation. He was practically leaning on Germany's head as his member twitched and pulsed inside the contracting tunnel.

Germany created a powerful suction around his erection and sucked _hard_. This was all it took for a huge load of milky cum to explode into his mouth. He swallowed it down as if it were the very elixir of life.

England panted heavily and thrusted his hips weakly as he rode out his mind blowing orgasm while still clutching the Germans slick, yellow hair.

His member gave a half-hearted twitch when the younger man started cleaning the rest of the bitter fluid, prodding his tongue into the slit to search for more.

A red hue crept across his face as realisation hit him.

England stood up with shaky legs. His knees almost buckled as he tried to run to the bathroom on the other side of his bedroom, which wasn't easy to do, especially with a bit of a semi on.

He left Germany on the ironically cream carpeted floor, gazing after him with sorrowful eyes and a full raging erection.

….

On the other side of the door England ran a trembling hand through his sleep dishevelled locks. He felt bewildered by this turn of events. He stole a look back into his sleeping quarters where the other male was still sitting.

_Had Germany taken advantage of him? Or had he taken advantage of Germany?_

Two things however, were clear in his mind. One; Germany couldn't stay here where he could be harmed (molested) by perverted countries, including himself. Two; his undeniably gorgeous German friend had just given him probably the best (and probably the last once Prussia found out) blow job of his life.

…End of chapter…..

(A/N: So Mellowantsyou, what did you think? The next chapter will be up in about 2 weeks. Getting ready to move house is a most vexing business. Thank you for reading!"


	3. Chapter 3

**(I hope that you treasure this chapter because I nearly threw up multiple times writing it. Sorry it's so late.)**

**Speick chapter 3**

**For once it's not Belarus**

As England walked the cuddling German down the snow logged path he had the strangest feeling that he should turn back, leave Germany, and run for the nearest train station…

(At Russia's house)

"I'll be back big brother~. When I get past all your dogs, guards, barbed wire, electric fencing, motion activated sensors and your door handle, we can finally be together!"

When the echoing screams of 'marry me' had dissipated into the afternoon air, Russia cautiously peered out from the upturned couch that he had been cowering from his deranged sister behind since the late hours of the night before last.

He was tired, hungry and quite frankly, fed up. To make matters worse he wasn't entirely sure that the she devil in disguise had gone. Suddenly, the sound of the doorbell ringing met his ears. He screeched and burrowed himself under some cushions. But then he realised that his psychotic sister was not in the habit of politely asking to enter his house. Or in fact, his bed. He shuddered at the mere thought. The doorbell rang again.

So he extracted himself from the squishy mound and went downstairs to answer the door.

England was stood outside, Germany hanging off of shoulders and simultaneously trying to grope him. He prayed that Russia would hurry up and open the bloody door soon. It was like _minus_ four degrees and he could practically feel his fingers falling off. What's more, the frustrated German was like a ticking time bomb; he wouldn't stay this docile forever. He blew into his freezing hands.

After what seemed like an eternity the mahogany entrance was opened by the smiling Russian.

"You have come to become one with me, da?"

"Nyet." said the annoyed Brit in a painfully British accent. "Actually old chap, I came to ask you for a favour."

Russia raised an eyebrow behind his silver mane.

"I want you to take care of Germany for me, just for a few days. I mean, you can handle him can't you?" England thought back to the morning.

He couldn't risk another disastrous slip up like that again.

"So will you do it or not?"

Russia smiled. "Da."

"Is that a yes you will, or yes you won't?"

"Da."

England swore under his breath. He _hated_ Russians, _especially_ this one.

"Just bloody take him!" The foul-mouthed Englishman bundled Germany into the other man's arms. He turned on his heel and left for the Vokzal*, muttering about 'getting to the bottom' of it all.

Russia watched him leave and then glanced down at the normally stoic German. Everything about him screamed 'I'm a uke, fuck me.'

"Well then little puppy, we must go find you something good to eat, da?" With that, he shut the door to the arctic conditions (coldness only penguins and Russians could bare) and walked back into the living room, Germany following close behind him.

He hefted the sofa into its rightful place and straightened out the cushions from where he had held on to them (blubbing like a toddler scared of his wardrobe) during the siege on his vital regions.

Russia placed the abnormally light German onto the couch next to them, where he snuggled down into them, looking cold but contented.

"Now Germany Puppy, I go and get food for you, ok? Stay shchenok."* He ordered when the person in question tried to come with him.

He went into the white marble kitchen and took out a bowl from the cupboard and a few rashers of smoked bacon from the fridge. He had always wondered why he needed a fridge; he always ended up throwing the food at his sister anyway.

He started to prepare the food, singing popular Russian songs as he did so.

In the middle of burning the meat and pirouetting he felt something warm on his thigh. He looked down to see his new pet staring up at him with unadulterated lust clouding his eyes.

Russia noticed fingers on the inside of his coat, which he even wore inside the house for some reason.

"Priviet* Puppy" He crooned quietly "you are hungry, da?" Germany nuzzled his upper leg, burying his nose into the firm muscle.

Russia reached down and picked up the German, cuddling him close and made him wrap his legs around his waist.

"You are too _cute."_ He smiled creepily and carried Germany back into the living room. With gentleness not expected he laid his charge on the sofa, leaning over him, stroking his hair, the fine blonde strands feeling like silk.

Germany leant into the touch, moaning softly in appreciation. He bit his bottom lip and looking into cold lilac, bent his head back onto the floral material, baring his neck for his new master to mark him.

And mark him he did. Russia smiled again and began to suck on Germany's lily white skin, leaving scarlet blemishes wherever he could. He then did the same on the other side, making the love bites symmetrical.

Germany threaded his slender fingers through his Russians beautiful hair.

Russia tugged off the leather jacket that Germany was still wearing from the day before. The leather created a powerful friction that caused a painful wince from the German. The amazing pleasure that came from the burn almost made him pass out.

He slid a hand in between their bodies and down to his combat pants and rubbed himself through the rough fabric. Russia ceased soothing a harsh bite lovingly with his tongue and slapped the interfering appendage away.

Thinking of a better idea, he brought both of Germany's hands up, above his head onto the previously neat cushions. He unzipped his fly quickly and grinned.

"We are going to have such fun you and I…"All of a sudden all the kindness and love from earlier had disappeared and been replaced by a cruel intention toward the German.

"Da?" Russia pulled at his prisoner's trousers with one hand, still keeping a tight grip on both of Germany's with the other. There was an unfriendly gleam in his soulless eyes.

Germany was too far gone in his own lust that he was blissfully oblivious to the pain and abuse that would undoubtedly follow.

!

Suddenly the piercing sound of an alarm filled the air and ripped Russia's attention away from his goal. The smell of smoke was also present as the loud noise reverberated throughout the house.

Russia zipped up his trousers and leapt to his feet to dart into the kitchen to deal with whatever had caused the alarm to disturb him.

The doorway had a thick plume of smoke exiting it. Germany looked on with frightened eyes. Somehow it wasn't the noisy interruption that had scared him.

Meanwhile at England's house…

"What!" cried France "You gave 'im to Russia!" The tone of his normally smooth voice had taken on a girlish squeal. "'Ow despicable of you Briton!"

He widened his eyes and gasped dramatically as he scooted further forward on the sky blue couch.

"What if something 'appens to 'im!"

England put down his (eighth) cup of sweetened tea and brushed the mysteriously appearing rose petals from his lap angrily.

"It's none of your business what I did with Germany, you frog."

France smirked. "Hon hon hon, and what _did_ you do with petite Allemagne? Or now zat I think about it, what did Allemagne do with _you_?" he said wiggling his eyebrows.

"NOTHING YOU BLOODY WANKER NOW SHUT UP AND EAT A SCONE!" France waited for a moment. England went into his point with a little more depth.

"I simply couldn't deal with that much German, so stop laughing frog, before I shove one of your precious roses up your French…" His potty mouth stopped as Sealand skipped into the room.

"Nose. Now if you will excuse me I would like to get back to my tea."

With that he picked up the sugar contaminated beverage and went back to fuming in silence and ignoring his southern neighbour.

France pouted and flicked his sexy hair with one of his perfectly manicured hands.

'_Well if 'e won't do anything about zis crime against amour, zen I will!'_

He flounced frenchly out of the room and set off to Russia's house to save the younger nation from a terrible fate.

(Back to Russia's house)

Russia had long since taken the burning meat off the stove and cleared the kitchen of smoke before his whole house was caught on fire. He was eager to get back to Germany. He stood in the doorway, silently watching, as the other male began to doze on the warm cushions. The carnal desire to harm his defenceless foe bubbled its way from deep inside, into his head and overwhelmed him.

Just as the platinum blonde relaxed he pounced. Germany bolted. Russia chased. Their game of cat and mouse went from the living room, to the kitchen, into the dining room and finally out into the hallway.

Germany backed up against the hard grain wood and tried to open it. Russia chuckled as the blonde male realised that the door was in fact locked and bolted. He inwardly thanked his sister.

Without her, he would never have gotten the deadlock seal that activated as soon as he entered the house.

There was no escape for the weakened German. The sly leer on Russia's face told him that he knew it too. Amethyst searched lilac for any signs of the gentle passion from before. Alas there was none.

Defeated, he let himself be slung over a broad shoulder and his eastern and western borders bound.

As the Russian dumped him on the bed he tried his hardest to get away. Animal instinct had told him, even before his weakness that this man was not to be trusted.

The cold metal of the handcuffs bit into his wrists. A lone tear fell down his face.

Russia on the other hand was overjoyed. His leer had been switched with a nasty grin that had escalated into a full blown laugh. He _was_ going to have fun with the smaller nation. He reached out to grasp Germany's legs and pull him towards his master…

However, the joy was short lived.

(A/N: I'm evil, I know. Next chapter will be up within the next two weeks!")

*Vokzal means railway station in Russian.

* Russian for puppy.

*Priviet is Russian for 'Hi.'


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi there, I'm sorry I've been so long uploading; I had to go on a long weekend in a caravan with no Internet. It. Was. Hell. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece of limey fluff I cooked up.**

**Speick chapter 4**

**T(horny) rose**

The ring on the doorbell made Russia jolt out of his 'playful' mood.

He had every intention of taking out his anger on his pet later. He stormed downstairs and flung open the large front door, to be met by the flirtatious wide cerulean eyes of…

"France." The Russian looked surprised. Not many western nations came to see him. Even less of them were French. Apprehensively he invited his guest in.

"You come to become one with me?" For once, this was a question he didn't ask with a predatory gleam in his eye. More like a wince.

"Nyet." Russia stared blankly at the Frenchman. He was so sick of people doing that.

But he had to hand it to him; France did do the accent a lot better than most.

"England changed 'is mind about Allemagne. 'E didn't think about 'ow ze climate iz different. So 'e decided to let moi look after 'im." Lied the blonde through his perfectly straight teeth. "After all, my 'ouse is a lot closer to 'is zan yours iz. Is 'e around anywhere?"

Before Russia could say vodka, the flamboyant male had ventured into his bedroom, where Germany was still tied up.

"Bonjour Allemagne!" France said brightly.

A few clicks could be heard as France unlocked the handcuffs with a key that he carried round with him (with perfectly innocent intent of course.)

Russia could only stare as his pet was frog marched (by a frog) down the frozen garden path. He made a mental note to invade England later for his troubles. He felt remorse for his stolen pet. His home seemed just that much colder without the Germanic nation.

"Goodbye Shchenok…"

~ (On the train)

"Don't you worry Mon Cher; I'll protect your beauty from zat commie bastard!" France peered at Germany. He really was beautiful, especially when he was wearing his royal blue cloak. The purple of his eyes suited the spun gold of his hair perfectly.

The Frenchman felt a swell of lust rise, like a phoenix, inside of him. He knew that he had to keep it in check, under lock and heavy artillery. Well, at least until they were out of the public eye and behind his bedroom door. Preferably with the lights on. And a pair of fluffy handcuffs.

Temptation nibbled at his mind and nerves as the German snuggled into his long overcoat. He sighed. This was going to be a very eventful night.

~ At the train station- France.

They finally reached Paris, France's vital regions, after a tiring and sexually frustrating train ride.

They got off the train at Montparnasse and began to walk the last mile or so back to France's house. It was roughly eight o'clock and the sun was ending its cycle from east to west.

The sunset was rather lovely, thought France as he stared at the light reflecting on Germany's hair.

The flaxen haired man kept an arm around the Youngers waist, in fear of the countless muggers and general scumbags that prowled the cold Parisian nights. That and the hope of copping a quick feel. (What do you expect, he _is_ French!)

At last they reached the front door of his house. France fumbled with his keys as Germany toyed with his hair. Suddenly, the blonde flung his arms around the French nation's neck and gave a sensuous lick up his cheek.

France shivered. He didn't know whether it was from the coldness of the German's hands or the tantalising leap of arousal, but his instinct told him to simply give the other man what he wanted. After all, Allemagne had started the game of 'l'amour' that he so desperately wanted to finish.

"Oh Mon Cher, you 'ave no idea what you are getting yourself into."

He picked up the Germanic nation with lust fuelled strength and precariously lent him against the door while he hurriedly searched for his front door key.

The German sucking on his neck with vigour did not help one bit in his mission. He gasped as the other thrusted his hips into his own clothed erection.

At long last the lock clicked and France kicked the door open while still supporting Germany.

He carried him down the up the stairs and down the hallway to his bedroom. Once in a while they stopped for a quick rest and a slow grope against a random wall or cabinet.

Germany's back would be littered with bruises come the following morning.

France knew his own house well enough to be able to stare into the German's eyes. He was besotted with the amethyst hue that adorned his soon to be lovers face.

As he stared he noticed a glimmer of fear glance across the deeply soulful orbs as they entered the bedroom. _What had that Russian done to him?_

France shushed him and held him in his arms.

" Zere iz no need for you to be frightened Mon Amour, I will not 'arm you.

He tilted the German's head with two fingers and touched their lips together in a butterfly kiss. The uke moaned as the Frenchman ran a hand through his hair to bring him closer. A tongue invaded his mouth and caressed his own in an aptly named French kiss.

France gently pulled the both of them back onto the luxurious four-poster bed in the centre of the large starlit room.

He laid in-between the German's spread thighs, the other welcoming his weight. He ground his hips down, groaning at the friction at the blessed contact.

" Je suis amoureux de toi."

He captured the blondes' mouth again in a ferociously passionate kiss. Teeth clashed, buttons flew, fingers skimmed across firm flesh as they worked towards their goal.

Once they were fully undressed France paused to admire Germany's chiselled torso. However, the sheer number of scars on his body both intrigued and terrified him.

_How had he got those imperfections? Had he himself had anything to do with them?_

He brushed a hand delicately across a particularly sizable one that ran directly down the centre of his chest. Separating his left from his right. Or his East and West. France recalled the treaty of Versailles. The Frenchman also remembered the pain that was etched on Germany's face as the victorious allies severed his connection with Prussia, his brother country.

France knew that he had more than a little something to do with that. Guilt stirred within his gut and tears pricked his eyes.

He wanted to say he was sorry, to mar his own body with scars that should rightfully be there to repay his beloved Allemagne. However, he knew that no amount of his life's blood would ever be enough, ever make up for those lost years that could have been spent with Prussia.

So France made it his god sent mission to give his sweetheart all his love tonight.

He bent over Germany, sucking and nibbling on his collarbone, leaving a ruby love mark trail down his chest. The blonde beneath him mewled as the older man got closer to the place he really wanted to have attention payed.

France cautiously took hold of the hard member that had been pressing into his stomach, making the other gasp and curl his toes in pleasure. He slowly started stroking up and down.

He tied his sexy hair up and out of his face with a ribbon on the bedside table. The Frenchman licked a stripe over the top of the engorged flesh. Germany quickened his breathing as France tried to regulate his own.

France closed his eyes and took in the blonde's sounds as he began to increase his actions. He almost choked as the well-endowed German bucked his hips, desperate for more friction. France held them down and scraped his teeth along the length as he sucked, making Germany writhe in ecstasy.

All of a sudden, the French nation deep throated him. The other nation grabbed hold of his hair and pulled the glossy threads. France groaned at the pleasure-pain, creating powerful vibrations that sent shockwaves to the very centre of the Germans body.

Germany bit his bottom lip and shuddered as France began fondling the untouched section of his member. The red hot tip glistened with precum and saliva.

The smell of sex was present in the air, making both males hotter under their skin.

France rubbed soothing circles on the others thighs as he took his further than ever before so that his throat was filled with the pulsating organ and tensed his throat. The tightness of the Frenchman's throat was the last straw as Germany arched his back and clung to France's hair as he came.

Thick ropes of semen poured into France's mouth, some of it escaping, and dripping down onto the German's abdomen.

He cleaned it up with his talented tongue and transferred a little of it into Germany's mouth in a passionate kiss. Germany slumped over his head and released his death grip on his hair while France dried the hardening saliva on his stomach with a discarded shirt.

He felt exhausted, yet sated. All his brain could say was _**sleep**_. So he slowly laid back and closed his eyes.

France noticed the German's flickering eyelids and brought his attention to his own stiff member. He thought about taking his Cherie right there and them.

But as he stared at the blonde with the heavenly eyes, couldn't bring himself to disturb his much needed rest, let alone force the one he cherished so much to give himself up to such a selfish matter.

He was glad to have given the said to be fun deficient man at least one thing tonight. France lay down behind Germany and enveloped him in a tight embrace, effectively spooning him.

"I 'ave given you my 'eart Allemagne, s'il vous plaît forgive me…"

In his deep slumber Germany didn't noticed the tears that fell on the pillow next to him.

End of chapter

(A/N: So, one of my favourite character pairings have been done. *Sigh* I really enjoyed writing that, much to Italy's disgust. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as well.)


	5. Killimanjaro

**(A/N: All my friends told me NOT to write a fanfiction with **_**this**_** particular pairing, but since it was a request from the amazing RaindropNinja I must proceed with the yaoi. I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long, my internet server's been down.)**

**Speick chapter 5**

**Kilimanjaro**

The warm morning sun bathed the sleeping pair in golden light, highlighting their naked bodies. The light shone through the gossamer like curtains, illuminating the room. France was the first to wake up, wrapping his arms around his peacefully sleeping bed mate. He smiled softly and leaned over Germany's shoulder to quickly kiss him on the cheek before disentangling himself from their embrace.

"Good morning." He stretched and got out of bed, pulling on some underwear before he went downstairs.

Germany stirred at the loss of heat. He too shrugged off the Egyptian cotton sheets and pulled on France's discarded shirt to cover his body. He followed suit and trailed downstairs into the kitchen where France was making breakfast.

His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten in two days.

France noticed him enter the tiled kitchen and grinned as the younger man stopped to watch him cut up strawberries.

"You are 'ungry Mon petit Chatton*?" Germany nuzzled into his shoulder. He took that to mean a very cute 'Ja.'

He picked up a piece of strawberry and popped it into the Germans mouth. The light blonde's taste buds were assaulted by the sweetness of the juicy red fruit. The Frenchman began dicing a few apples, pears and mangos, every so often feeding a bit of each to Germany. The apples and pears he liked, but the mango was spat out with a disgusted expression on his face.

France frowned. If he was going to get anywhere with his new conquest he knew that he needed to know what Germany liked; activities, clothes, sport and most importantly, lube flavour.

He shook his head, dismissing that thought. Of _course_, food was most important.

However, he had no idea where to begin. Maybe he should ask someone close to the Germanic nation. Someone like… Austria? No. What about Hungary? No. Prussia? Absolutely NON! There must be someone that he could get help from.

Suddenly it dawned on him. There _was_ somebody that had actually been friends with Germany, that didn't own a frying pan and wasn't Prussia.

France smacked himself upside the head for being so blonde. (No offence)

He would go and see Japan.

~ Time skip (Nikko, Japan)

The pair arrived at Japan's house at ten thirty-two am. The taxi ride there had taken quite a while. Particularly when the taxi driver was continuously being distracted by the two men in the back seat making out. More than once he had to be reminded to keep his eyes on the road ahead and not the slightly steamed up rear view mirror.

The scenery of the Japanese countryside was very lovely. The Sakura cherry trees were in bloom and the little houses were charming. '_Japan must be very lucky to live in a place like zis.' _Thought France.

A rather pleasant water feature adorned the front garden along with a small rockery. The Japanese landscape was -in France's opinion- simply beautiful when in the throes of spring. Although, he thought, it was not as breathtakingly exquisite as his own German Adonis.

The blonde in question was holding his hand quite happily and seemed to be perfectly relaxed as they walked down the gravel pathway to the front door of Japan's house.

France rang the bell attached to the wooden doorpost. It opened and a little ball of fluff darted out followed by Japan. The furry creature jumped up at the visitors and yapped at Germany, scrabbling up his leg. It soon stopped when Germany growled low in the back of his throat. The Chihuahua- dust bunny cross, or whatever it was, whined and ran away into the garden under the water feature.

Japan looked after his pet as it hid. He was confused by his actions. The Spitz-chin (quarter dust bunny) cross wasn't normally like this with strangers. But then again, Germany had never growled at anyone before.

He politely invited the pair inside. The décor was simple, yet pretty. One could feel at peace in a place such as this.

"Harro France, Harro Germany, how can I help you?" They sat down on the green satin cushions that were placed in a triangle around the low table. A bowl of oranges sat on the table, reminiscent of the time the axis was complete and all three countries were allies. France began to tell his tale.

Japan blushed as France recounted their earlier activities. When he started to narrate the more intimate details of the anecdote Japan almost fainted. France made sure to punctuate each sentence with a flirtatious sound or gesture.

He wished that the Frenchman had told him exactly why he and Germany were coming to see him when he had called up before.

~ Flashback

_Briiiiing~. Briiiiing~._

"_Harro?"_

"_Bonjour mon ami!" _

"_Furansu__?"_

"_Oui oui!"_

"_Is everything arright?"_

"_Of course it is Japon, why would it be otherwise?"_

"_Wer, you carred me so…" _

"_Ah yes~, I called to ask if Allemagne and moi can come to see you for a bit?"_

"_Erm, sure thing. What time ar you getting here?" _

"_Is dix heure trente ok?" _

"_That should be fine.__"_

"_See you zen!"_

"_Hai__."_

~ (End of flashback)

"…and so, I realised zat ze only person zat knows Germany well enough to know what 'e eats, iz you!"

He ended the story with a flick of his hair and the smaller man buried himself deep in thought.

"I think that Germany rikes anything German, rike; potatoes, dumprings and sausage." France giggled a bit at that, he knew that Germany definitely liked a bit of sausage.

"But," Japan thought back to when the axis was still together "he arrso will eat sushi and pasta too."

'_Especially the pasta.' _He added inwardly. It seemed to him that the blonde was always at his happiest when he had plate of fettuccini in front of him. Not unlike a certain other European country. Japan wondered why he didn't share the same enthusiasm for rice balls or pickled prunes. Germany and Italy had always been close. Their love of nudity perhaps? Sometimes Japan felt like the third wheel on a bike; waiting to be used for backup.

His musings were cut short by his little pet at his leg begging for attention. (I was talking about the _dog_ perverted people. Tut tut.) It had wandered back into the room and was feeling left out of the cuddle happening on the other side of the table, so decided to scratch at his master for some tickling behind the ears.

When it received none he took up an interest in the blonde man sitting opposite. Germany latched onto France's arm and snarled menacingly. Japan went to lock the ball of fur outside but was stopped by a hand on his forearm.

"Don't worry Mon ami, I'll go shopping for food, and take 'im wiz me. It's ze least I can do." Japan smiled gratefully.

"Ariagato Furansu, if it wouldn't be too much trouble…"

"Mais oui, think nothing of it!"

France departed with a cheery wave and a wriggling dog under his arm down to the local shops.

The former allies were left alone. Japan squirmed, not wanting to be the one to break the awkward silence. "So…" He held Germany's gaze for a minute before giving up and going to pour them some green tea (A present from China Kun.)

They sipped the kind of disgusting yet soothing beverage and listened to the water running outside. "So…" The Asian man repeated in hope of an answer. When none came he sighed and continued. "I see it is true what the other countries are saying. You really are different. Not that that's a bad thing!" He added quickly to avoid sounding insulting.

He subtly took in Germany's lean figure; he didn't seem as intimidating now. Those pretty purple eyes looked especially nice.

He could almost… No. That would be unacceptable. He could not just presume that Germany would want him to… But what if he did, and the real reason he and France had come here was for the Germanic nation to tell him?! It was possible, after all, hadn't the blonde offered to wash his back before? Was this the German way of _flirting_? Of course it was! (n't) Japan cursed himself for his stupidity; how could he have been so dim-witted?!

Quick as a flash he was on Germany's side of the table. The heat of the moment threatened to overcome him, but he held himself back. But then, all rational thought was lost with the slender hand against his face. Japan glued their mouths together in a frantic lip lock. They kissed as though they were long lost lovers, running fingers through each other's hair and touching whatever skin was available.

Germany laid in-between the Japanese man's legs, not breaking the furious kiss. Japan was on his back on the floor. The wood was hard, and he would probably feel it later, but for now, he didn't care. This was the most alive he had felt in a long time.

Germany pulled the white kimono aside and quickly undid the strings on the smaller man's underwear. In the back of his mind he could vaguely recall someone telling him about how Japan had an amazing 'thing.' He didn't know who told him but he knew- as he crawled down the ravenette's body- that the mysterious person was right.

Unlike Korea, Japan's 'thing' was long and didn't lack in width, with a thick load of hair around the base. It stood tall at eight inches weeping precum in salty tears. Germany put out a tentative hand and caressed the throbbing organ, wiping away the cream-like droplets with his thumb. Japan gasped and laid his head back on the floorboards.

He felt as if he had been electrocuted; every nerve was on fire. The fingers on his member felt _so _good! The blonde male ran a fingertip over the slit, staring at the large cock in front of him. (I put that in just for you, Jemma!) He focused on the head, pushing back the uncircumcised foreskin and licked the bitter liquid off of it. He let out a quiet moan at the taste.

Japan dug his almond shaped nails into the floorboards as he tried his best to keep in control. He was afraid that if he moved, or even made a sound that this whole scene would disappear and he would wake up in bed with sticky sheets.

But when Germany formed a fist around his shaft and started pumping he gasped and moaned in pleasure. He screamed at the sensation of _two_ of those fantastic hands on him. He could feel himself tensing up for… what exactly? He had never felt anything like this, the feeling of unadulterated lust frazzling his brain circuits. It was all too much.

His inner voice was silenced as the euphoric feeling of his first climax blew his virgin mind. Rivulets of cum exploded from the tip of his member and landed on the unsuspecting German's face, clinging to his eyelashes and dribbling down his cheeks. Just in time.

"Bonjour! I'm back! What ze…?"

…

…

…

France could only blink, open mouthed, as he took in the sight of a dishevelled Japan with a deep blush on his face, riding out his orgasm induced by the Frenchman's blonde lover. He felt betrayed. He had thought that at least Japan would not succumb to the intoxicating allure that came with the German's presence.

Japan looked up, horrified. (Well you're going to look horrified when there's a Frog staring at you get off!) He jumped to his feet and covered himself quickly with his robe.

France spotted Germany sitting absent minded on the floor still covered in the milky residue. He unfolded his handkerchief with one hand- a skill that he had perfected over the years- and took Germany's face in the other, cleaning the smooth skin.

Japan felt sheepish. He watched the tender display of lovers and wished that it could be him staring into those amethyst eyes. He wondered if anyone would ever look at _him_ in that way. Sure there were plenty of amazing guys out there but was there a perfect one? Japan thought not. The dark haired man felt his heart slowly close, as the petals of a jasmine flower when the rain sets in.

But wait! There was one that he thought was quite nice. The one who was always sleeping and had some kind of cat fetish. Japan had to admit, Greece was pretty cute. He blushed at his outrageous mind. The rosy pink hue did not go unnoticed.

"What 'as got you in such a state?" the Frenchman asked icily. He still hadn't forgotten the little escapade on the floor he had witnessed earlier on. But then he saw the tell-tale signs of a fantasy daydream. _Poof! Escapade on the floor gone!_ "Or should I say," He said hon honning "_who?" _Japans blush deepened to a delightful shade of maroon.

"Nobody."

"Ah, so it _iz_ a _body_, come now, out wiz it!"

"Not rikery."

"But Mon ami, you _must_ tell me; after all, I am the nation of l'amour!" France batted his eyes and wiggled his hips. A few rose petals landed on various pieces of furniture. To save on cleaning Japan gave in.

"It is Greece aright, are you satisfied?!"

"Oui." came the smug reply. France felt as if a huge loadstone had been removed from his chest. His petit Allemagne was not in danger from the Russians or the Japanese. (What a weird threesome…) Today had been good. He had outed Japan, gotten some tasty food and protected his name a lover! But there was always the problem of Germany.

He knew that whatever had happened to his neighbouring nation, it had changed him. Changed him in a way that others found irresistible. It was beginning to become a bit of a bother. The German couldn't help his actions and this was getting him into trouble.

France realised that Germany needed help. For the second time that day, France knew exactly who to ask and exactly where to find them.

…End of chapter…

*Chatton means Kitten in French.

* The phone call is in French and Japanese phonetics which is why some of the words seem to be spelt wrong. They are not; they're just in the Japanese or French version.

(A/N: Reviews are always welcome!)


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